


True Hell

by misskayeedee



Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst, Casual Sex, F/M, Guilt, Heterosexual Sex, Hurt/Comfort, Jace is the hottest of hot messes, Jace isn't okay, Maia and Jace are my reluctant BroTP, Panic Attacks, Self-Destruction, anti-Climon, minor Jace bashing from Maia before she realizes fuck, post 2x10, post mid-season finale
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-13
Updated: 2017-03-13
Packaged: 2018-10-04 00:10:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,062
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10262225
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/misskayeedee/pseuds/misskayeedee
Summary: In the midst of the aftermath of Valentine's attack on the Institute, everyone has been trying to pick up the pieces and move forward in the war.Jace isn't doing as well as he would have hoped.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Please remember that Jace is an unreliable narrator. His assumptions about Maia's thoughts about him, and how everyone else views him are influenced by a high dose of self-hatred and alcohol.
> 
> This is an angsty one, so if you want happy Jace or Clace, please search elsewhere.
> 
> At least there is no incest, amiright?

She feels good. So warm and tight, like she is grounding him to this shitty alleyway in the middle of Brooklyn.

_"Clary,"_ Jace whimpers under his breath when she squeezes herself around him, and he prays she can't hear him. It's so intense that his eyes roll back and he almost loses his grip on her thighs.

Blissful. It feels good to feel something other than pain. He can feel his stamina and strength ruins working to keep his back and knees from aching to hold her up, but it's worth the effort.

Jace fucks into her quickly, working his hips as well as he can in the position they are in. Public sex is all about speed and discretion, after all. His hand is over her mouth, and her teeth are sinking into his palm.

She won't shut up, and if she doesn't stop, he will come too quickly.

Her tongue, hot and wet, comes out and swipes across his hand.

The feeling grosses him out a bit, so he reaches down to flick her clit with his thumb instead. He prays that she will do better at keeping quiet without his hand to help her.

But it's in vain.

Her hands come up to cup the sides of his face when he thrusts harder, deeper, trying to get her there before he allows himself to fall.

She forces him to look at her, and he searches her face for something he won't find.

"You feel so good," she whines. "Oh fuck, come with me, Jace."

So he does. So hard that his vision flickers.

She tries to lean forward to kiss him, but he turns his head at the last second into her neck.

He won't. He can't.

Anger. Confusion. Isolation. Lust. Love.

Wave after wave of emotion, usually kept hidden so well under lock and key, pours out from him between her thighs as she bites his earlobe.

They stay like that for a few seconds, breathing and shivering in the warm night air. Her cunt keeps fluttering around him, and he jerks into her a few more times, gasping at how amazing it feels.

Eventually he has to put her down.

Her heels hit the ground and then he steps back, rushing to tuck himself back into his jeans. Her forked tongue flicks out and licks her lips as she watches him.

She doesn't seem the least bit concerned, standing almost completely naked in an alley in Brooklyn. Her arms stretch lazily over her head, lacing her long fingers together. The pops of her back and neck cracking are loud, and he stares in amazement. He is more than a bit jealous of how relaxed she is.

With a wave of her hand, her clothes are back in place, and she breathes out a sigh.

"Nice one, Shadowhunter."

Jace nods awkwardly, and the Warlock strolls back towards the main street without a backwards glance.

Alone once more.

After allowing himself a second to catch his breath, he stumbles back to the bar, desperate to find something to keep his thoughts from madness.

The edges of his vision are slightly hazy. He is more drunk than he first thought. His boot catches on a crack in the pavement and he trips before righting himself with windmilling arms.

Definitely more drunk than he thought.

Maia is still working when he gets back inside, but the bar is now empty except for two Vamps sipping fresh red out of wine glasses. Maia's nose is wrinkled in distaste.

"Your hair looks like a birds nest, and you have hickies on your....everywhere."

He shrugs and collapses onto the stool he had left earlier. A glass of water and a shot of Jack Daniels slide across the bar without his prompting.

"Where's the girl?" He asks around a yawn.

"Wait you mean Lindy? She's left, looking as happy as a clam." Maia's face is shrewd when he toasts the shot before throwing it back. "If I had thought you had even a slight chance of hurting her, I wouldn't be here sharing in your post-coital awkwardness."

She slides another shot towards him and Jace tips it back too, before he can overthink it. Maia doesn't look impressed.

"You really are fucked up about this, aren't you?"

Jace laughs. "Shouldn't I be?"

"Good point," she concedes. He laughs again and taps his knuckles on the bar to order another.

Too many thoughts still racing in his head. The pack, decimated to a fraction of its usual strength. Alec's face when he couldn't find Magnus.

So many lives lost. Because of Jace.

The past few days have been a blur of funerals at the Institute and treaty talks with the Seelies, Vamps, and Werewolves. Most of which are calling for his death. Most of which he doesn't disagree with.

Tonight, after fruitlessly spending days trying to talk to him about his feelings, Alec and Magnus have disappeared into their room to do whatever they do.

And Jace can't be alone when he keeps seeing death in his mind. When he caused it all.

Thus, Lindy. And thus, alcohol.

He's lost count of how many shots he's had, but it has to be somewhere in the double digits. Any bartender besides Maia would have stopped him by now. Part of him wonders if she hopes he will drink himself to death as penance for her brothers and sisters.

Part of him wishes he could.

Shadowhunter metabolism and all.

That and he doesn't imagine angel blood will allow him to die from alcohol poisoning.

His phone buzzes on the shiny wood bar. He looks down without interest and sees several missed texts from Alec and Izzy and even one or two from Magnus. But the newest one...

_Where are you?_ Clary asks. Nothing else.

_Go be happy with Simon._ He thinks before he can talk himself out of it. _He deserves you more than I ever could._

Jace throws his phone across the room with a quick snap of his wrist. It hits the wall and shatters. The two Vamps in the corner turn to look at him in surprise. He snorts a laugh and goes back to his water.

Maia rolls her eyes at him, and tosses a lackluster punch at his face that he dodges.

"No throwing your phone. Want another drink, Blondie?"

_"I don't drink."_

He hears the words in his head. A memory. Another bar. Filled with biker Vamps. Clary's hair had been tied up that day, out of the way. He could smell her shampoo whenever she turned her head.

Times change.

He nods quietly and then leans forward to rest his face on his forearms.

Maia brings back a double shot, and his phone, which is little more than some pieces of plastic at this point. At the top of the pile is his credit card.

Makes it pretty clear he has been cut off.

The amber whiskey is the colour of Clary's hair and he contemplates drowning himself in the glass.

"You look like shit," comes the accusing voice of the she-wolf. "Why don't you talk to someone about this?"

Jace raises an eyebrow at Maia, who has a look of concern on her face. It quickly dissolves into her usual mild disinterest.

"I mean someone who cares to comfort a murderer," she half-jokes.

It's too much.

Unbidden, Jace's jaw clenches and tears prick at the corner of his eyes. They burn worse than the whiskey ever could and he squeezes his eyes shut to avoid the shame of watching Maia watch him cry.

"Oh. Oh shit, no, don't do that here."

But it's too late. Hot, fat, ugly tears are rolling down his face in the middle of this dump of a bar at four in the morning. The Vamps, who had been bickering over "goat versus cow blood," go very, very quiet. He can hear them shuffle towards the door and out into the night.

What kind of man is he? To allow so many innocent people to die by his hand? To cause his parabatai such unneeded anxiety? To displace all of the hard-earned trust he has had to work for over the years?

Demon blood or no, he is the lowest of the low.

He feels Maia's cool fingers on the skin of his arm and his throat lets out a keening groan, and he's crying like he hasn't in a long time. Worse than when he found Valentine-as-Michael in that god-damned locker. Worse than when his falcon died.

"Oh, man, Blondie. Calm down. I know it wasn't really your fault."

Maia's admission does nothing to temper his feelings. This must be true Hell. To live with feeling this way. She grips his arm tighter, the best comfort that she can provide him with her own feelings, and a bar, in the way.

"Why don't you talk to Clary? She'll understand."

That is the exact wrong thing to say, but it's not Maia's fault that she said it. It does have the effect of stopping his tears. But the self-hatred he feels overwhelms him and makes him hiccough violently and choke on his spit. His eyes snap open.

"She's happy with Simon," Jace growls at Maia. "Nothing I could do would help me deserve her. Nothing she does will absolve me of my sins."

Maia looks somehow more uncomfortable than she had before. 

"Clary's your sister..."

"NO!" Jace shrieks. His eyes are crazed, and he holds onto the fact with an obsessive intensity. "Valentine lied before. She isn't my sister. I'm not sick. Whatever else I am, I'm not sick."

And he rips his arm from Maia's grip, standing quickly and pacing as he struggles to hold on this one saving notion.

Deep breaths from across the bar draw his gaze back to Maia, whose eyes are glowing.

"I'm listening, man, but you need to calm the fuck down before my wolf goes defense-mode."

Jace forces himself to stop his jerking steps, and stands, ripping at his cuticles as she calls herself back from changing. He watches her spine relax, and her eyes drift back to their soft, warm brown. Finally, she stands before him, as calm as he has ever seen her.

"Clary isn't your sister," Maia says slowly. It's not a question, and his shoulders relax too.

"I'm not sick," Jace spits out quickly.

"No," Maia agrees, shaking her head. "You aren't sick. But you are messed up."

He opens his mouth to say something in retort, but he can't think of anything. What she says is true, and he doesn't necessarily expect Maia to be the most comforting in this situation. She probably enjoys him in this weakened state.

The thoughts swirl in his head, and Jace can feel his body begin to shake. His hands are vibrating, and his kneecaps knock together painfully.

"Jace," Maia says cautiously, approaching him with her hands out. But his legs crumple under him and he hits the ground, shins aching. Before he can fall on his face, she catches him, and sits hard, holding him close to her chest. The look on her face is less than pleased, but she cradles him with a tenderness that surprises him.

"You shouldn't be drinking like this. You're going into shock, dumbass."

"How'd'you know?" He slurs, as his eyes leak more tears and his vision blurs at the edges. She looks away, and her arms grip him a bit closer, a little harder.

"I've been here," she whispers, so low he almost doesn't catch it. And then she looks at him and her eyes are blazing and he knows now exactly why Simon liked her, and why she is a force to be reckoned with.

"Don't give up, Jace. That is how Valentine wins."

The way she says it makes it seem so obvious, but he gives a watery chuckle.

"Why?"

"Because the Downworlders need you to stop Valentine in order to rebuild," she replies, looking away from him, mind somewhere else. Then she turns back. "Because Alec, Izzy, Luke, Magnus, and Simon and me. _Clary."_

Jace squeezes his eyes shut and tucks into her chest, feeling very much like a child again as he cries all over her shirt. Her hand lightly brushes his hair back from his face.

"We won't let you give up. We need you."

**Author's Note:**

> So my headcannon is that Jace hasn't kissed anyone since that last kiss with Clary. He may have fucked. But no kissing.
> 
> In terms of Maia enabling Jace's destructive habits, I don't think she would realize what's going on in his head. She probably assumed he was just drinking for something to do. She is human and angry at him, so a gnarly hangover isn't necessarily out of her realm of revenge.
> 
> Once she realizes what's really going on with Jace, and the guilt he feels, Maia is in mother-mode. I have a feeling that she wouldn't allow herself to hate Jace too viciously because she has also killed unconsciously, and she would be able to relate.
> 
> Jace and Maia and Alec and Clary are my favorite reluctant BroTPs.


End file.
